


Pink is Just Another Shade of Red

by jewelianna88



Category: Popslash
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:36:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/pseuds/jewelianna88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCarthy Era AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink is Just Another Shade of Red

JC didn’t like his office. It was in a cramped corner of the Rayburn Building, barely larger than his broom closet at home. The dark wood paneling may have been stylish, but it made the room feel even more like a cave. Never one for spelunking, JC stood by the tiny window and stretched for a view of the street, anything that would show a greater sign of life than the clack of typewriters from the secretaries and office aides working in the next room.

“Settling in?” A voice called from the doorway, and JC turned from the window to see his new neighbor, the most senior Representative from Maryland. Jack Donner was well over six feet tall, and had a terribly out-of-fashion mustache, like something from one of the Western movies that JC and his brother liked to go see at the Nickelodeon on Saturday afternoons. He offered JC a cigar, then shrugged when the offer was declined and lit one for himself anyway.

“I know the office seems small, hell, I was in here for five, no, six years now. But it’s a good corner, away from the chaos you get down the hall.” He eased his large frame into one of the two chairs that wasn’t covered in boxes of files. “Still have some unpacking to do, I see.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know where everything’s going to go yet.” JC leaned back against his desk. “Something I can do for you, Jack?”

“Well, that depends. I know you’re probably itching to get yourself set up on some fancy committee now that you’re in here.”

JC opened his mouth to interrupt, but Jack kept on talking. “I don’t want to shoot all your hopes down, son, but it’s the kinda place where you’ve just work your way up, let people get to know you. No one’s looking to take a chance on the new kid, you know? You have to get yourself out there, get your name known.”

The whole conversation seemed a little too scripted for JC’s taste. He may have been a fresh face in Washington, but he’d grown up around politics and could sense a trap from a mile away. “I bet you know just how I could do that, don’t you Jack? Get my name out there, as you said.”

“Senator McCarthy is looking for some aides to help with his investigation. It would be a good chance for you to work with some of the big shots up here on the hill, get your feet wet.”

“The HUAC’s Communist trials? Jack, come on.”

“It’s important work he’s doing there, you know that. Hunting out the Reds, keeping our country safe.”

“It’s a witch hunt.” JC stood up a little straighter. “It’s against everything on my election platform, Jack, you know that.” He should have known better than to even get into the discussion. The incumbent he’d beaten in the election had been a well-known friend of Jack Donner’s.

“So tell the people that you’re stepping in to make sure McCarthy doesn’t get out of line. Put a nice spin on it- you’ve gotta learn that if you’re gonna survive around here. It’s all in the spin you put on things.”

JC shook his head. He didn’t want to spin the facts so they were gilded and shiny when presented to the people- he wanted to show them what was really going on in the big white dome on Capitol Hill.

“Think about it, son. That McCarthy would even consider you is an honor. There’s plenty of folk mad as hell that he’s offering the position to you, but he’s hell bent on getting young blood involved.”

“I’ll think about it,” JC promised, and extended a hand to Jack, his cue to leave. In a final puff of cigar smoke, the older representative ambled back down the hall, leaving JC in his tiny crowded office.

“Fuck,” he swore, and kicked the desk, then hopped about on one foot to ease his throbbing toes. Of all the places he’d wanted to avoid in Congress, McCarthy’s trial room had been at the top of the list.

“So what do I do?” he asked the empty room. “Take the position and try to fight from the inside or turn it down on principle so I can serve an ineffective term and be voted out next election?”

He really hated when the only choice to make was so clearly a bad one.

**

Justin Timberlake loved Los Angeles. He’d been there for a year so far, and everything about it was glitz and glamour. He had a shiny blue convertible that he’d roll down the street and wave to the passers-by on foot, flashing them his million-dollar smile. He’d dine at the Brown Derby with the hottest blonde bombshell on his arm, or sneak down to the beach with his friends to spend the day tanning and playing in the surf. After a long day of proper play, he’d place a discrete phone call and his after-dark life could begin.

Then, somewhere in between the high life and the good life, he’d sneak off to a sound stage for a few days to make another smash movie, grinning at the cameras and blowing kisses to his latest beautiful costar.

Yes, Los Angeles was fantastic.

He’d bought a house in the hills, far enough from downtown that the roar of traffic didn’t keep him up at night, but close enough to see the city lights. Usually the place was full of people, a non-stop party, but after his last wrap party he’d sent everyone home and begun to enjoy the quiet. Only Trace, his best friend since forever, and Justin’s mother remained, and they were nowhere to be found.

With the day to himself, Justin grabbed his latest script and headed to the pool, where a cold beer was already waiting for him. He slathered on some oil to keep up his perfectly golden tan and sank into a lounge chair, setting an egg timer so he’d know when to roll over. At the last moment, he whisked off his shorts, deciding that since he was alone, tan lines shouldn’t be an issue.

Lost in the world of the sheriff he was to play, Justin didn’t hear the doorbell ring, nor did he hear the buzz at the side gate to his yard. When a shadow fell across his backside, he looked up, expecting to see a cloud and instead getting a full view of three men in suits looking most displeased.

“You’re blocking the sun,” he scolded, annoyed to have been disturbed on his only day off. “Whatever it is I have to sign, just leave it over there. I don’t put my name on anything until my lawyer’s gone over it.”

“We don’t have anything for you to sign,” one of the men said. There was no humor or lightness in his voice at all. “Though I do wish you’d put on some pants.”

Annoyed that someone had the audacity to come into his yard and order him around, Justin rolled over purposely, and watched the men avert their eyes. “I do believe that a man has the right to be nude in his own home. Especially when he’s not expecting company.”

“Mr. Timberlake. We’re here as part of a special government investigation. We have a few questions for you, and then we’ll leave you in peace. This would go a lot easier for us if you were dressed.” The man, who was clearly the leader of the trio, kept his eyes fixed firmly over Justin’s head.

Sighing, Justin dropped the script and reached for his shorts. “Y’all sure know how to ruin a man’s day.”

He led them inside, which in hindsight he realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the world, what with the 3 on 1 odds and all. Justin was in great shape, but these guys didn’t exactly look flabby. “What kind of information could I possibly have for a ‘special government investigation’?”

Leader guy pulled out a notebook. “Do you know a man named Chris Kirkpatrick?”

Justin scratched his head. “I used to. We did a lot of auditions and stuff back in the day. We got to know each other, you know, on the same circuit. A lot of time spent sitting in waiting rooms. He had a good voice, and we were considering forming a doo-wop group, but it never came together.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

“Chris? God, at least three years. I was in New York for two, and have been out here for one. Why?”

“Has he tried to contact you at any time since then?” Leader guy was scribbling furiously, and Justin was beginning to suspect that the other two were mute.

“I got a Christmas card from him when I was in New York, but haven’t heard from him since being here in LA. Can you tell me what the hell is going on? Has he done something wrong?”

“Do you know anything about his association with the American Communist Association?”

Justin laughed. “Chris? You got the wrong guy buddy. Chris might be anti-establishment, but he’s not a Communist. He’s the most greedy motherfucker I know.”

“So that’s a no?”

“No,” Justin sighed. “I don’t know anything about Chris being in any Communist group.”

The lead guy closed the notebook and put it away. The three of them stood in unison and headed for the door. “We’ll be in touch with you if we have any more questions.”

Outside the egg timer dinged. “Great. Could you call first next time, maybe? You’ve totally thrown off my schedule for the day now.” Justin had no idea how long he’d been tanning his stomach, and now he ran the risk of being uneven.

“We’ll try,” the lead guy said, and then they were off, their black suits in their black car, driving down the mountain at a dangerous speed.

“Motherfuckers,” Justin said again, and went back out to the pool to learn the rest of his lines.

**

JC hated committee meetings. He’d grossly overestimated the amount of time he’d get to spend actually representing the people and underestimated the hoards of meetings he’d have to attend. Federal government was so different from state, where there was a familiarity and casualness to the meetings. Everything here was so formal. And long.

His head nodded down, eyes falling closed, then snapped back to attention. He tried to stifle a yawn. The clock ticked on the wall, and he swore the seconds were slowing down.

“Mr. Chasez? Mr. CHASEZ!” He looked up to see a double-barrel row of faces staring down at him. They were all frowning.

“I’m sorry?” He glanced at his notebook but all he had written was a grocery list.

“What time would you like to begin our inquiries tomorrow?”

Ah, yes. Days on end spent listening to people talk about how they might be Communists. JC could hardly wait. It took most of his effort just to keep from rolling his eyes.

“Nine o’clock okay for everybody?” It seemed that the only task they’d deemed him capable of handling was the scheduling.

After everyone else agreed, JC closed up the meeting, stacking the huge pile of file folders, all marked confidential. He knew he was supposed to review them that night, but his college friends were coming by for poker night, and the files would mostly likely be left until breakfast the next morning.

Poker night. JC grinned. He hadn’t seen some of these guys since graduating from Georgetown, and one of his friends from New York was down as well. It was the perfect way to end a stressful day, with good whiskey and good company.

His house was off of Capitol Hill, past Georgetown near Dupont. It was a quiet neighborhood. There was even a turret, which the realtor had said would make a nice study. JC had put his poker table there and turned it into his rec room.

He set out drinks and took out the trash, since the fruit flies had invaded again. Every time he bought bananas, he thought grimly.

The doorbell rang at eight, and there was revelry as the guys piled into the house. Tony, Alex, and Lance had been among JC’s closest friends at Georgetown, and he was glad they were all still in the city.

“So, tell us about life on the hill,” Lance said as he tipped back in his chair, feet up on the poker table. He held out a cigar for Tony, who passed the lighter around the table.

JC puffed on his own and tried to explain it. “It’s kinda boring,” was really all that he came up with.

“Boring how? You work at the US Capitol. You’re a freaking US Representative. There’s like, a spot for you in the line of succession. If the Reds come over here and blow up the Capitol on the day you’re home sick, you could be President!”

JC laughed at that. “I seriously doubt that would happen. And for God’s sake, just don’t mention the Communists tonight. I’m so fucking sick of hearing about the Communists.” He sat down at the piano and started to play an old jazz standard, trying to end the conversation or at least change the subject.

It worked. “What are we waiting for, here?” Tony asked, tapping out a rhythm on the edge of the poker table.

“Joey’s supposed to be here any minute,” JC said.

“That’s the guy who’s in town filling in for Oklahoma! until the regular gets well?”

JC had met Joey on an assigned interview for a theatrical arts class he’d taken at Columbia while earning his master’s in poli-sci. It had been his blow-off class and had led to a fun friendship with the Broadway actor. He’d only seen him a couple of times since moving home and being elected into the State Senate.

The doorbell rang, then, and soon Joey was bounding up the stairs. The poker game got underway and the room filled with cigar smoke and the quiet click of chips.

“So, this guy who’s in the show with me, Chris, he’s totally crazy, like, he’s not married so he’s out every night, and he’s like this big frat guy except he’s really tiny and he’s so bizarre.” Joey paused and checked his cards again. “Raise five. Anyway, he tells me today that he’s not gonna be at rehearsal tomorrow night cause he’s gotta go to the Capitol and testify about some meeting he went to back after the war ended when he was in acting school.”

JC’s blood ran cold. “What meeting?” He snuck a look at the pile of file folders stacked on the kitchen table.

“Some actor’s union thing that they think was a front for a Communist scam. Like, it’s totally out of control, the way they just twist these things around.”

JC tossed his chips into the pile and said “call,” just as Lance looked at him and said, “Isn’t that the committee you’re on?”

He groaned, hoping it wouldn’t come up in front of Joey. His friends from DC at least knew the part of you that had to sell your soul to get something done. “I think so. I haven’t looked at the names for tomorrow’s hearing yet.”

“Seriously, JC? You’re buying into that whole Russian plot to take over the government crap?” Joey’s face was a mixture of hurt and confusion.

“No. God, no, Joey, I’m not. No. I didn’t want to, but Donner, he’s kinda like the head Representative from Maryland, he really wanted me on this committee, and if I didn’t take the position then I wouldn’t have a prayer of getting onto the ones I really want to be on. So, I mean, yeah, I have to sit there, but at least I can do some good. I mean, I can vote down all of these crazy inquiries they want to make and try to get them to realize that this is just crazy.”

“It’s a fucking witch hunt, C. Jeez. I hope you’re right about getting it shut down, I mean. Seriously.” He laid down his hand of cards. “Full house.”

JC groaned and tossed his pair of Queens to the table. “You fucking suck, Joey, you know that? You goddamn suck.”

Joey pulled the pile of chips away from the center of the table, smiling at the groans of JC and his friends.

**

Justin hated when people were unprepared. He showed up at the soundstage on time three days after the incident with the men in black, only to find that the costumes hadn’t been fitted properly and his costar hadn’t quite memorized her lines.

“I was thinking they could do it like they do with the news, you know, like, cue cards?” She was cute, Justin thought, but dumb as a post.

He let the director explain that shooting a movie wasn’t like the news, and that cue cards wouldn’t work because she was going to have to actually look at her costar, not stare off screen while reading.

His trailer was nice, though, with a refrigerator filled with beer and whiskey.

“Hey, J, they need you back on set in five.” Trace stuck his head in the door. “And there are a couple of guys here to see you.”

Justin sighed. “Are they from the press, or do they look like they’re going to a funeral?”

“Definitely a funeral. It’s fucking 114 in the Valley today, and they’re all decked out like it’s December in Denver.”

Justin cursed and stood, straightening out his chaps. The joys of shooting a western. They were off to Sedona in a few days to stand in front of mountains and look dangerous.

Outside, the sun was glaringly bright, and Justin wished he’d brought his sunglasses. His cowboy boots clicked as he walked across the pavement, almost setting a scene like an old west showdown.

“Gentlemen,” he drawled, greeting them in character. “What brings you out to this little corner of the Earth?” He spat, just to keep the old-West tough guy image in tact.

“Mr. Timberlake.” The taller of the two took a folded piece of paper from his suit jacket pocket. “Your testimony has been requested in Washington DC for the House Un-American Activities Council.”

Justin stared at the paper. His hands threatened to shake so he curled them protectively into fists at his side. They’d only wanted to talk last time; they’d given no indication that he was under any sort of indictment. This was trouble. Big trouble. With a deep steadying breath, he reached for the paper. He didn’t even look at it, just crumpled it with his fist.

“I’m going to have to get in touch with my lawyer,” he said through gritted teeth.

Neither of the two men moved. “You’ve got two weeks,” the taller one said. His silent partner turned and led the way back to their car.

Justin stood on the back lot tarmac for a long time, staring at the crumpled blue paper in his hand.

**

The stack of blue papers on JC’s desk seemed to grow exponentially every day. From the testimony of Chris Kirkpatrick alone they’d garnered another twenty names of witnesses and persons of interest.

JC leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The inquisition (as he’d begun to think of the hearings) of Kirkpatrick had soured his stomach and left him angry for days. The poor stage actor hadn’t been able to afford a good attorney, so he was pelted with questions for six hours straight without much defense or help in answering. His answers seemed straightforward enough to JC, but the other committee members hadn’t stopped picking apart his responses until they got what they were after: a list of names. They’d even hinted at his mother being involved, which had finally cracked Kirkpatrick.

It was all about naming names, JC had realized slowly as the session ground forward. Get the low men on the totem pole to implicate the next level up. Apply pressure until the witness cracked and would give you any information at all just to make you stop. It was torture, maybe not with a rack and a hot iron, but torture all the same. It sickened him to be a part of it.

When it was finally over, JC had a list that included several other Broadway stars and starlets, a couple of directors, and three Hollywood heroes including young Justin Timberlake. Oh, had the committee’s eyes lit up when they heard that name. Indeed the file was at the top of the pile.

JC flipped it open and stared at the glossy photo paper clipped inside. He tried to imagine the color of Justin’s eyes, the shade of blonde in his hair. JC hadn’t had much time to get to the cinema in recent years, so he’d only heard of the famous Justin Timberlake, the debonair extraordinaire.

There was a knock at the door and JC looked up, expecting to see his secretary or perhaps one of the other young representatives who had taken to stopping by to ask JC to join him for lunch on Fridays. Instead, he was greeted with the same face he’d been staring at, only now it was in glaring color.

“Are you JC Chasez?” the kid asked glancing back to the door. “Cause if you’re not, I just walked down a really long hallway in the wrong direction.”

“Um. Yeah. Hi, I’m JC. You’re Justin Timberlake,” he said, standing, and reaching for composure. He walked around the desk, smoothing his tie, glancing out in the hall to see where his staff had gone, allowing Justin to creep up on him. Oh, right. Lunch hour. He closed the door and smiled. “Come in, please. Have a seat.”

“Let me guess. You’re a big fan,” Justin said, seeming to sense JC’s nervousness.

“What?” JC blushed. “Oh, no. Sorry, I haven’t really seen any of your films. I’m sure they’re really good and all, but I’m pretty busy around here.”

“Right.” Justin’s face fell as he glanced around the office, taking in the framed photos of JC’s family, the big bookshelf with a globe on the top. His gazed changed when he saw the stack of subpoenas on JC’s desk. “I guess you know what I’m here about.”

“I figured.” JC smiled, trying to show Justin that he wasn’t the bad guy here. His stomach twisted a little bit, so sick of these meetings and the pain they caused.

“Chris. Kirkpatrick, my friend who you guys raked over the coals last week? He told me that you were kinda the good-cop on the committee, so I figured I’d come here straight off before jumping in with the sharks.” He smiled nicely and leaned back in the chair.

JC warmed to realize that his reputation was spreading as the anti-McCarthy on the McCarthy committee. It was, after all, the best he could have hoped for after getting stuck there. “I’m sorry you’re being dragged through this. While I don’t doubt the intentions of the HUAC, I can’t exactly say that I agree with their methods. The committee is a bit aggressive.” He raised his eyebrows, hoping that Justin would understand there was a lot more he wanted to say but couldn’t, not when they were sitting in the Congressional offices.

“Right. Well, the whole thing’s crap if you ask me. Land of the free, right? That should mean free to be a Communist too.” He scowled, hands falling back to the arms of his chair.

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly around here,” JC warned.

With a roll of his eyes, Justin replied “Then do you think we could set up a meeting somewhere safe, sometime soon? I’m already in deep shit for leaving the set in the middle of shooting. I came here because I need to know what I can do to get this whole thing over with as soon as possible.”

There was only one answer. “They want names.”

“Well, they’re not going to get them from me, so do you want to help me try to shut this thing down now or what?” Justin asked.

JC glanced out the window, to the view of the parking lot and dumpster beyond. So much for the grand illusions of Capitol Hill, he thought. “You should probably talk to your own representatives,” he warned Justin. “You’re not from Maryland.”

“I’m here to talk to you,” Justin answered simply. “Will you help me?”

JC should have said no. He should have sent Justin down the hall to the Tennessee district offices or perhaps just wished him luck. Instead, he found himself writing down directions to his house.

“I should be home by seven. Swing by any time after eight and I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise much- I don’t have a lot of clout around here yet.” And if anyone knew he was meeting with a suspect, he’d probably be impeached before he got any, JC thought wryly.

A slow smile crept onto Justin’s face, despite the serious look in his eyes. “See you then,” he said, tucking the paper into his pocket. He left as quietly as he’d arrived, and JC sat back down once the door had closed.

This was no good, he thought, just as he shivered with excitement. It felt a little bit like espionage, the two of them working together to beat the system. In fact, JC was really looking forward to spending time with Justin Timberlake.

**

Justin had one thing in mind as he knocked on the front door of the Congressman’s home that evening- was someone trailing him? He glanced over his shoulder, sure that he was being followed. He’d taken two different cabs and walked four blocks from a convenience store, and to the best of his amateur detective abilities, no one followed him.

JC Chasez opened the door, still wearing his suit though the tie hung loosely around his neck. He smiled and pulled off his glasses, standing back so Justin could come in.

“Sorry to take this off-site,” JC said as he took Justin’s coat. “I’m still not sure exactly how many people are listening at the door, you know?”

“Yeah, sure.” Suddenly nervous, Justin stuck his hands into the pockets of his pants and looked around. “Nice place.” It had that old colonial look, with dark wood furniture that curved to graceful legs, cushions in muted and decorative shades of blue. There were papers stacked neatly on the coffee table, and a large cabinet that probably hid a television.

“Thanks. My mom, you know. She had her decorators in here a week after I bought the place. But come back, I’m just finishing up dinner. Can I get you a drink?”

Justin followed JC back past a staircase, footsteps echoing on the wood floor. He smiled when he saw the book open next to the empty plate on the kitchen table. JC pulled two beers from the fridge and opened them with a bottle opener attached to the counter.

“I’m kinda nervous,” Justin admitted. “I know Chris said that you could be trusted, but the whole thing’s got me a little edgy.”

JC smiled reassuringly and sat down at the table, shoving the empty plate aside. “My friend, Joey, is in the show with Chris, so it’s not like he doesn’t have it on some sort of authority. But I understand, I mean. I’m on the evil committee, after all.”

“You’re also nothing like any politician I’ve ever met before,” Justin commented, sitting down across the table.

“Thanks. I think.”

“It was a compliment.” Justin felt a twist in his stomach when JC smiled at him. Oh no, he thought. No way, no how. “Anyway, I needed to talk to you, okay, because there’s some stuff that could be pretty damaging to me if it came out. I need to know what you know, what’s gonna be asked, to know if I need to do damage control before hand or anything.”

JC shrugged. “I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the files that I got from the HUAC. Do you want to see yours?” It was really just a profile, nothing top-secret and despite the bright red stamp, didn’t appear to contain anything confidential. If it would put Justin at ease to know what was coming, JC was happy to help. He knew instinctively that Justin wasn’t a Russian spy.

Shocked, Justin set down his beer. He’d never expected this to be that easy. “Seriously?”

“Sure. Wait here,” JC said, and walked out of the kitchen. When he returned a minute later, he had a thick manila folder in his hand. “This is what they gave us,” he said, opening the file on the table and sitting in the chair next to Justin. He leaned over the folder, explaining some of the abbreviations used in the write-up. After combing through page after page, they finally reached the end. JC had been right- other than his professional accomplishments and a few press items from the Hollywood rags, there was nothing of concern.

“I don’t get it,” Justin said. “I mean, there’s nothing here about Communism, or anything like that. Why do they want me?”

“It’s like, a chain of command thing,” JC explained. “They don’t want you. No offense, but you’re a minor movie actor. But you have connections to other people, people who could be considered important. You’ve worked with directors, other actors who might have ties that are under investigation. If they can get you to give testimony against those people, they could move forward in other investigations.”

“It sounds like a witch hunt.”

“It is.” JC ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up strangely. “I don’t agree with it, and I hate being a part of it, but it’s the system, you know? You can’t take it down from the outside, you’ve just gotta work from the inside. Frankly, I think it’s going to self-destruct before anyone from the outside stops it, but it might still take a while.”

“What do you mean?” Justin leaned back in his chair, interested. JC didn’t look like a politician, or act like a politician, but he definitely seemed to have the knowledge of a Congressman.

“Sooner or later, they’re going to go after the wrong person. I mean, you’re the perfect example: you’ve clearly got no Communist connections, never had any. Now imagine if your parents were, say, diplomats. Or other Congressmen. People who could shut this down. Imagine the Committee suddenly discovers the President’s brother is conspiring with the Russians. McCarthy and his goons, they’re so hyped up on this they’d rush it forward thinking it’s some great discovery. Other people, they’re not gonna be so happy. Going after Hollywood’s all well and good cause there are a lot of people out there who equate Hollywood with vice, so they’ll go along with the shake up. But they’re gonna run out of actors and singers pretty soon, and McCarthy’s gonna look elsewhere,”

Justin nodded, actually following. “I’m really just looking to get out of this without being blacklisted, or having my director decide it’d be cheaper to recast my role than wait for me to get back to California.”

“And for something to stay secret,” JC added.

“Right.” Justin nodded. He’d finished his beer, and began drawing in the condensation on the empty bottle, studiously not meeting JC’s eyes.

“Are you gonna tell me what it is?”

Justin let out a short laugh. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” he said. “What if they subpoena you about this meeting?”

“How are they gonna know?” JC asked.

“You never know.” Justin fell quiet again and, after a moment, stood and walked to the windows. The tiny backyard was almost black, barely visible.

There was a click behind him and JC gathered the empty bottles and his dinner plates, stacking them in the sink. “If you tell me, I might be able to make sure it doesn’t come up. You know, be prepared if conversation starts to head in that direction and aim the questions to something else.”

Justin turned and studied JC quizzically. His gut was telling him that he could trust this man, but his mind still wasn’t sure. “Why aren’t you married?” he asked, rather than answering. Better to ease into the subject.

JC blinked in surprise, drying his hands on a dishtowel as he turned away from the sink to face Justin. “I was engaged, before starting law school. She didn’t want to wait to have a family, but I wanted to be done with school and working somewhere before buying a house, settling down. I didn’t wanna have my kids growing up, never seeing their dad.”

“But that was years ago. Why nothing since?” Justin pressed.

He watched as JC shrugged and slowly walked out of the room. Justin followed him, not to the fussily decorated front room, but to a back room, with wood paneled walls and soft leather couches. Clearly, this was a room JC had decorated for comfort, not style. “Are you married?” JC asked as he settled down into a chair in the corner. “Is that what you’re hiding?”

Justin remained standing, watching JC. There was confusion in his face, and a hint of annoyance, maybe. Justin felt bad for prying- clearly there was something there that JC wanted to keep hidden. Apparently they both had their secrets. “I’m not married. I’m most likely not going to be married.”

“Why not?” JC asked, clearly puzzled. “Hell, I figure, star like you, you’re looking at three, maybe four marriages before you’re done.”

Justin laughed at that, knowing it fit his Hollywood persona perfectly. It relieved him to know that his work to keep up pretenses was going to successfully. “It’s not that I haven’t had the opportunities,” he said. “And I’m telling you this in the strictest confidence.”

JC nodded, and Justin’s knees began to shake. He’d had this conversation with a few close friends, but never with a stranger, never with such heavy consequences. He sat heavily on the sofa, folding his hands together.

“I’m. Well. I.” Deep breath, he thought. “Women don’t interest me. Not in that way.”

JC’s eyebrows shot high on his forehead. He bit at his lower lip then exhaled slowly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Justin couldn’t keep watching, so he looked to his hands instead. “So it’s really important that these hearings, you know. It would ruin me if it got out.”

JC wasn’t saying anything, making Justin nervous. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he began.

“No.” JC shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “No, it’s okay, really. I was just surprised, I mean, I never would have thought…”

“Never met a homo before?” Justin said snidely. His leg twitched nervously. He was ready to bolt if JC turned out to be one of those who felt they could beat the sense back into sinners. He didn’t think it was coming, but years of threats had made him always ready to run.

“Actually, I have. My mom’s cousin, well. He didn’t come around very much, but there were rumors, you know. But yeah, we all figured out why he’d come for Christmas dinner but not church services by the time we were teenagers.”

“Right.” Justin had heard it all before. In JC’s mind, he knew, he’d just been relegated to the same category as the weird cousin. “Well, look, I need to get going.”

As he stood, JC did as well and walked him to the door. “So, listen. We didn’t get a chance to talk about the kinds of questions that they’re probably gonna be asking you. Can you come back, maybe tomorrow? I’m going home to Maryland for the weekend, but I’ll be around tomorrow night.”

“Seriously?” Justin blinked, shocked, as JC handed him his jacket from the coat closet.

“Sure. I mean, that’s what this was supposed to be about, right? Figuring out how to get the hearings over as quickly as possible?”

“Right. I just didn’t think.” Didn’t think he’d want to still help, Justin thought silently. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are you okay to get home?” JC asked.

“Sure. I’m gonna walk down to the main road and catch a cab.” Justin paused, unsure if he should hold out his hand in thanks or simply walk away. JC smiled at him and let the screen door close between them, settling the issue. Justin headed down the steps, smiling to himself.

That hadn’t gone half-bad, he thought. And he got to see JC again tomorrow.

**

JC didn’t sleep well that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Justin with another man. He couldn’t quite imagine how it’d go, but the images in his head kept him awake, and embarrassingly aroused, for most of the night.

Because of that, he yawned over his coffee and reviewed his daily agenda. Meetings in the morning, a couple of press appointments with local Maryland papers. He seemed to have become a bit of a celebrity because of his involvement in the HUAC meetings.

It was storming outside, a rumble of thunder and the splatter of rain on the window enough to draw him away from the papers on his desk, back to the images of Justin Timberlake. How would he ever face him again that night? Would it show in his face?

A knock at the door, and his secretary let in one of the lawyers- JC was bad with faces, he could never remember which one was which.

“So, the buzz is that Timberlake was nosing around the building yesterday.” He sat without being invited, crossing one leg over the other. He was nearly bald, and his black eyeglass frames were a stark contrast to his pasty skin. JC didn’t like him.

“He came to see me. I told him I couldn’t discuss the trial procedures.” JC folded his hands on his desk and gave his best ‘fuck off’ smile.

“Did he ask anything specific? He had to have said something we can use.”

JC shook his head. “He’s a pretty good actor. I couldn’t even get a read on his facial expression.”

The lawyer clearly was not happy. “If he comes by again, send him down to my offices, please. We need to handle all questions of a legal matter in the law department.”

JC promised he would, then made noises about an appointment to get the guy out of his office. He closed the door and leaned against it for a minute. They were going to have to be very careful, he realized, if he was going to be able to help Justin without getting caught.

His day was busy enough to drive thoughts of Justin away, though, so he got to work and focused on taxes and constituents rather than the pretty boy from California.

The day was long, so JC stopped at a restaurant for dinner. The people at the table next to him were complaining about taxes and money being spent overseas rather than at home. He sighed. He really should have taken his mother’s advice and gotten a place outside of the city. Nothing existed in the District that wasn’t involved in politics, not even dinner.

At home, he turned on his record player to drown out the thoughts running through his head. He changed into a pair of blue jeans and spent way too much time in front of the bathroom mirror trying to make his hair look less official.

He realized, with a start, he was preening for Justin. It made him laugh out loud, nervously.

When the knock sounded at the door, JC was there to quickly usher Justin into the house. He led him straight back to the den this time, settling on one side of the couch. Justin sat next to him, immediately looking to the coffee table where his file sat.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping his hands on his knees and staring at JC. “I got your phone call, and made sure I wasn’t followed.” JC had found time after dinner to place the call from the restaurant pay phone.

“So, let’s go through the format of the interview,” JC began, “and then if there’s anything you’re still not sure of, we can focus on that.”

He was impressed as the night progressed. Justin was nothing if not professional, and very focused. He asked intelligent questions, but found moments to burst in with humor.

JC found himself losing focus, though. Justin had the most intriguing manner of moving to the music that still streamed from the record player. It wasn’t dancing exactly. There was certainly no sense of planned movement. It was more like the music was inside of him when he wasn’t talking- a tapping foot, a roll of the shoulders. But there was more. His lips were beautifully cherry red, his hair brushed into soft waves the curled becomingly over his ears.

What was he thinking? JC tried to focus on the work, increasingly uncomfortable with the thoughts involuntarily popping into his head.

After they’d gone though the usual set of questions and best way to answer each, Justin sat back, apparently satisfied. “So you don’t think they’ll bring up, you know.”

“I don’t think so. They’ve got no indication of… it, and if you answer the way we’ve discussed, they shouldn’t really get any clues, so I’d say you’re safe.”

“Okay.” Justin looked over at JC, his head cocked a bit to the side. “I’m surprised that you’re so calm about it. Most people get all strange around me once they know.”

JC felt a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I don’t know. It’s just. Interesting, I guess.”

“Interesting?” Justin’s eyebrow raised. “How so?”

“Well, like,” JC shifted, pulling one leg up onto the couch so he could sit facing Justin a bit more. “What made you realize it? Like, did you just try it and like it?”

Justin laughed. “Not quite. There was another boy, about my age, at a summer camp one year. At first, he seemed really strange, and I tried to avoid him, you know. But we got stuck on a camping trip in the rain, and were all in our tents, and it was just he and I in this pop-up, in the dark, and the rain.” He laughed again. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I asked. So you just, like. Went for it?” JC swallowed, picturing the scene.

“He went for it. I slugged him, rolled over, and pretended it didn’t happen. We didn’t talk again until the last night of camp, when I found him out by the bathrooms during the big dance with the camp across the river and apologized. Then I went for it.” He grinned, and JC melted at the smile, the first truly happy one he’d seen on Justin since they’d met.

“It sounds, I mean. It sounds so normal when you talk about it like that. I mean, I met my first girlfriend at summer camp, you know.” JC scratched his head and tried to picture Justin as young teenager. He couldn’t do it- the man in front of him was so, well. Masculine. Maybe that’s why the images in his head the night before had been so fascinating- he’d always heard people of that other persuasion were, well. Like a girl trapped in the wrong body or something.

“It is normal,” Justin said quietly. “For me, it’s just the way I am. I know it’s wrong, but it’s not something that I can just avoid. I’ve tried, trust me, but it’s better for me and everyone who has to be around me if I don’t try to like, force myself into a mold that’s not made for me.”

“So you really, like.” He’d heard it was dirty, unnatural, but when JC thought about it. Well, he couldn’t even imagine it.

Justin laughed again, but there was a guarded look about him. “I don’t think you really want to ask me that,” he answered.

“No, I didn’t mean. I’m sorry. I get too personal, I know.” His parents and friends had always warned him that his curiosity would lead him into unwelcome places.

JC studied Justin, who despite the rather personal questions seemed calm. Something was stirring inside of him, and warning bells were going off in his head. A voice that had long been silenced was calling to him.

“I think I’d better be going,” Justin finally said, standing with a smile and straightening the legs of his pants.

JC walked him to the door, pausing just in the foyer with his hand on the knob. “Do you think you’re all set?” he asked, concerned. His heart hammered in his chest- Justin was depending on him to get through the hearings- if he’d forgotten something, anything, and Justin was somehow indicted, or even blacklisted- it would be JC’s fault.

Justin weighed the options before nodding. “I think I’m all set,” he promised. “Thank you.” His smile was sincere, and he offered his hand. JC took it, and without thinking drew Justin closer, pulling him into a hug.

“Good luck,” he whispered, before squeezing tightly. He eased back from Justin, noting the odd look on his face. “What?”

Justin leaned closer, and JC’s mind realized what was happening a second before Justin’s lips grazed his.

He could have drawn back, or stopped it, but he didn’t. Didn’t even consider it, because when Justin kissed him, JC kissed him back. It sent shocks through his system, grounding him to the floor, unable to move except to lean into Justin a little more heavily and kiss him back.

His mind reeled with the implication of what was happening. His hands held tight to Justin’s shirt, feeling the tense muscles beneath Justin’s shirt. Hot breath tickled his cheek.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Justin asked as he turned, pushing JC against the wall. His voice was hoarse, husky, sexy. He brought a knee up between JC’s legs as he kissed him again, and with a start, JC realized he was hard as Justin’s thigh ground into his groin. He sucked in a breath and kissed Justin again, letting Justin guide his head just so. His skin burned where Justin touched, a hand cradling his neck, supporting his head to keep it from banging against the wall.

When he felt Justin’s other hand reach between them, he froze. What was he doing? Everything was spinning in his head, making him dizzy. Justin’s hand trailed around from behind his head, two fingers tracing down JC’s cheek.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked, again, and JC struggled to make sense of what Justin meant.

“Say what?” He almost didn’t recognize his own voice, and became aware that his heart was beating extraordinarily fast in his chest.

“That you were like me.”

JC didn’t answer. How could he, when he didn’t know what to say? He could have broken away but he didn’t. Instead, he kissed Justin again.

For a long time, there was nothing but Justin. He’d had trouble picturing it, but it all made sense as the closet doorknob dug into his back, Justin’s tongue swirling against his own. It just made perfect sense, and JC didn’t want to question it.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Justin whispered, thumb playing with JC’s earlobe.

“I’m not,” JC protested. Justin leaned in and nuzzled a bit at JC’s neck. It made him a little lightheaded, that simple touch. He’d been chaste too long. The last time he’d had sex had been right before graduation from law school, and she’d been, well. No one special. Oh, God.

“You are.” Justin kissed him again, lightly this time. JC wanted to pull him closer, deeper, but he spoke again. “Where’s the bedroom?”

JC froze. The bedroom. Oh, God. “It’s messy,” he stalled.

Justin laughed and kissed him quickly. “I don’t care.” He leaned into JC, and oh, that felt so good. But.

“I’m serious, it’s really bad.” JC pulled back a little, catching his breath, shifting away from the doorknob. Justin took a step back.

“Ok. I get it.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the floor.

“No.” JC reached for him, pulled him close again. “I mean.” A quick kiss, trying to clear his head. “I don’t know what I mean.” He didn’t let go of Justin, afraid if he did, Justin would never come back.

“Why don’t you think about it, then,” Justin asked. “Give me a call when you’re back in the city on Monday.”

“Sunday night,” JC corrected quickly, then felt the roll in his stomach when he realized how that sounded. “I’ll be back Sunday night,” he said more evenly, looking at Justin. He knew what he was committing himself to. He’d think about it later.

**

Justin was tempted to fly back to LA for the weekend. They probably could have gotten at least some of the soundstage scenes filmed, and he could have worked off some of the sexual frustration he’d picked up thanks to the young Congressman from Maryland.

Fuck. He’d secluded himself into the hotel’s health club and lifted weights for most of the morning, until his arms were quivering and tired. He hadn’t even stopped to rest, just jumped into the pool and began to swim laps.

Because of the short notice, Justin had come to Washington alone. Even his lawyer, an expert in contracts and studio gibberish, had recommended someone in DC who was used to dealing with Senate panels rather than come with him. Justin was finding that without the constant crowd of people and managers, he had time to think more about the impending hearings. And, of course, about JC.

JC. Joshua Chasez, owner of the most amazingly silky dark hair and steely blue eyes. A Congressman, powerful, and yet nervous and jittery when Justin had pressed his body close to JC’s. The juxtaposition of power and fear, the control that Justin had felt as he kissed JC, knowing he could easily dominate this amazingly powerful man- it was a rush that he’d never experienced before.

He could have just explained it away as that, but he knew, deep down, it wasn’t enough. JC was kind, and had an infectious smile. His laugh had warmed Justin’s soul. He was curious, and oh, by God, was he green. Usually Justin stayed away from the shy ones, but JC was an exception. He wanted JC naked and writhing on a bed, begging.

And Justin always got what he wanted.

**

JC kept waiting for the universe to give him a sign. If his mother tried to fix him up with one of the county club girls, he should go. If the preacher’s sermon was about sinfulness, he should heed the warning.

Instead, his mother prattled on about gardening and redecorating the sun porch, and the church service was all about philanthropy.

Ultimately, JC knew, whatever happened next was going to be his own decision.

He spent Sunday afternoon on the golf course with his father. JC wasn’t much for golf, but his dad was crazy about the game. He had a nice dinner with his family, nothing at all out of the ordinary. There was absolutely no indication that anyone knew what was on JC’s mind.

The car service arrived to bring him back to the city just after dusk. Normally JC drove himself, but he’d had work to look over during the ride. Plus, the way his mind kept wandering back to Justin, he probably would have ended up at the top of a tree rather than safely back in DC, one hand poised over the phone in his front hall.

Should he call? He knew what hotel Justin was staying in, but to leave a record from his own phone line- was it dangerous? Was some HUAC watchdog monitoring him?

He jumped in fright when the phone rang under his hand, letting out a loud shriek.

“Get a hold of yourself, C,” he whispered to his reflection in the hall mirror and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

It was quiet on the other end for a moment, but JC knew who was there. “You’re back,” Justin finally said. There was something in his voice that made JC’s insides flip-flop. He felt a rush of blood to his groin.

“Just a few minutes ago, yeah.”

“Have a nice time with your family?”

“Yeah. You know, nothing special.” JC twisted the cord of the phone around his fingers aimlessly. He was acting like his sister had when she was a teenager, he thought with disgust, and untangling his hand violently.

“So, about the other night,” Justin began. “If you just wanna let it drop, you know. That’s cool. I won’t say anything.”

JC appreciated the offer, but he wasn’t going to back down. He may not have understood why this had happened, but he knew what it was and, oddly, wasn’t afraid of it. “I think I want to see you tonight.”

“You think?” There was humor in Justin’s voice at that.

“I want to see you tonight.”

“Okay then. Let’s pick some neutral territory. I don’t want anyone to see you coming to my hotel.”

Together, they chose a hotel in Crystal City and made arrangements to meet there in a little over an hour.

JC expected his hand to be shaking as he put down the phone, but was surprised to find an easy calm filtering through him. It was as if everything was settling into place for the first time in a long time.

The hotel was perfectly non-descript, and the clerk at the front desk gave no indication that he knew who Joshua Chasez was when he passed him the key. The elevator was just a bit shuddery as it started and stopped, but whisked him up to the fifth floor without crashing. The hallway smelled of smoke and carpet cleaner, with cabbage rose wallpaper faded just enough to be drab.

Justin had told him to check into room 512, which, as far as JC could tell, was nothing more than a mid-class hotel room, with a green carpet and tiny TV set in the corner. There was only one bed, and JC sucked in a deep breath as he dropped his overnight bag.

He would do this. He wouldn’t do, well, that, but there were other things, he knew, and he thought Justin would be okay with just the other things. Those things weren’t as bad, he thought. He drew the line in his head as he sank to the bed, golden key chain still clenched in his hands.

There was a quiet knock, and JC realized that there was a connecting door between his room and the next. He opened it slowly, and there was Justin. He was wearing a fluffy white robe and smiling.

“Hey,” he said, stuffing his spare hand into his pocket. “You made it.”

JC smiled at him, trying to prove how completely okay he was with this. He was afraid Justin would realize he’d never done this before. Okay, maybe he secretly wanted Justin to know, only because it might make him go a little slower, or something. JC didn’t know what he wanted.

No, that was a lie. He wanted Justin. He stepped forward, and Justin closed the distance between them with a soft kiss in the doorway.

“Your room or mine?” he asked. JC shrugged. It made no difference to him. He touched Justin’s hair lightly, twisting a curl around his fingers.

“You’re gorgeous.” He kissed Justin again, taking the initiative. As Justin stepped closer, JC slid hand into the gaping neck of Justin’s robe, touching skin. It burned, it was smooth, and it drove him nearly mad.

He let Justin take the lead, stepped back when Justin urged, his back pressed against the wall. Justin surrounded him and kissed him again. He felt open, vulnerable and yet not unsafe. Like walls he had created came falling down and there was just his soul left behind, kissing Justin, watching as Justin’s fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt.

“Come with me,” Justin said, after opening JC’s shirt and spending a long time sucking on his nipples, pulling them to hard peaks. He toyed with one as he spoke, keeping JC from focusing too much as Justin led them back into his room. “I’ve got stuff in here,” he said, sitting down on the bed.

“Stuff?” JC pulled his shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it to a chair in the corner.

“Massage oil. It’s from this great spa in Palm Springs. You’ve got to get out there some time- the stuff they can do to get you to relax, it’s amazing.”

JC licked his lips. “That sounds great. So you, um. Do you want a massage?”

Justin smiled at him, a little warily. “Have you done this before?” he asked.

“Sure.” JC blushed red and stepped closer to Justin, sitting down beside him. He reached for the belt on Justin’s robe, but Justin’s hand fell across his.

“The oil’s a lubricant, JC. For sex.”

JC’s hands stilled. “I knew that.” He looked at Justin and angled his mouth for a kiss, which Justin gave willingly. It steadied him, enough that he was ready to move forward again, reaching once again for Justin’s waist. He wondered if he should say something about that invisible line he’d sworn not to cross.

“Wait,” Justin said, pulling away. JC almost groaned at the constant interruptions they were throwing up in front of each other. “I just. I’m getting the feeling that. Are you sure you want this?”

JC held up his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?” The longer they stalled the more unsure he was getting. “Maybe I’m not, you know, super experienced at this, but I’m here.”

“I know.” Justin grinned at him. “What is it about you, man? Why can’t I get you out of my head?”

“Why can’t I get you into my bed?” JC countered, and was greeted with a laugh. He licked his lips and smiled back at Justin, then slid further back on the bed until his feet came off of the floor. “Let’s start out easy,” he suggested, drawing Justin down until he lay beside him. “And then we’ll go from there.”

**

Justin lay quietly in bed and watched JC sleep. It was that deep time of night when it seemed even the night owls had turned in, leaving the world wondrously quiet. JC snored lightly beside him, the only noise or movement in the world.

He had doubted JC’s claims of experience beforehand, and even more now. Still, JC hadn’t been nervous or jumpy like some of the other rookies Justin had broken in over the years. Justin pictured the look on JC’s face when he’d come and smiled. The man had definitely never had a blowjob before.

Thirty years old and never been kissed, Justin thought. At least, not like that.

Over the years, Justin had perfected the one-night stand. He’d lost track of how many beautiful young men he’d met in hotel rooms across the country. People probably never would have believed the number, anyway- there were a lot more men willing to jump into bed with other men than anyone dared to believe.

This was something different, though. Justin knew all of the basics about JC- his age, religion, political beliefs. He knew that JC loved the ocean and was devoted to his family. It was more information than Justin usually knew about the men he had sex with. Still, there was something else here. He wanted to know how JC took his coffee, and if he talked in his sleep. He wanted to know if JC brushed his teeth at the sink or in the shower, and what kind of music he listened to in the car.

JC shifted, rolling toward Justin, who lifted his arm and welcomed JC up against his side. He hadn’t spent the night with someone in a long time, and was comforted by the press of a warm body against his own. Tomorrow morning he had to report to Capitol Hill, and despite the preparations and distractions JC had provided, Justin was scared.

“You won’t let anything happen to me now, right?” he asked the quiet room. No one answered, and Justin had to just take it on faith that everything was going to be okay.

In the morning, with the light of dawn creeping in the windows, JC helped Justin fix his tie.

“I’m meeting my lawyer at eight for coffee.” Justin scratched his neck, shrugged his shoulders, and tried to make the starched collar and suit more comfortable. “Any last words of advice?”

JC smiled, and brushed at Justin’s lapels. “Make sure to call Schine ‘Mr. Chairman.’ Don’t smile at Roy Cohn- there was that whole scandal last year, he’s sensitive to all things homosexual.”

Justin took a breath and nodded. “Are you gonna be okay?” he asked. They hadn’t done much last night, not by Justin’s standard, but he knew what it had felt like for him, the first time. JC though, seemed to be taking things in stride. He kissed Justin lightly, and Justin felt his stomach quiver. They’d agreed it would be best not to see each other during the trials. It just wasn’t safe.

“I’ll see you again, outside, before you go back to LA, right?” JC asked. Justin nodded mutely. “Then I’ll be okay.”

“You’re amazingly calm,” Justin said as gave into the temptation and stepped close to JC. “I don’t want to walk away.”

JC’s arms came around him and they stood there for a moment. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” he promised, and kissed Justin once more before Justin had to leave.

**

Two months later, JC took nothing but pleasure in walking down the steps with his fellow Democrats in protest of the HUAC hearings. The end was near- he could feel it. For the first time since he’d been elected, he felt like he was actually doing a service to his fellow Americans. He’d even been approached about Transportation and Infrastructure Committee- not very exciting, but so much better than the HUAC.

There was a Congressional recess at the end of the month, and JC tapped into his growing savings account and bought a plane ticket to California. He rented a car and turned it east, driving into the desert.

At Palm Springs, he found the spa and pulled in. The desk clerk fussed over him, and for once, JC wasn’t embarrassed the attention. He’d come into his own in the past few months and finally felt comfortable with his job and the interest it drew. Now that the McCarthy era seemed to be coming to a close, he was finally ready to get down to the real matter of helping to run the country.

There was just one thing left he had to attend to. He wrapped himself up in a white terry cloth robe and wandered down to the spa area of the resort.

“I heard this place has great massages,” he said to the body stretched out on the next table. The masseuse stepped back wordlessly and Justin rolled over. JC had been nervous about just showing up like this, but one glance at Justin’s smile put him completely at ease.

“What brings the Congressman from Maryland all the way out to the Sunshine State? Don’t tell me: already campaigning for president.”

JC laughed at that and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Not quite yet. I had some free time and there was really only one place I could think of that I wanted to spend it.”

“Good thing I wasn’t on location in Africa,” Justin said, sitting up and wrapping the towel around his lap. JC stepped forward and Justin pulled him in between his legs. JC smiled serenely- this was where he wanted to be.

“How’s life after inconclusive evidence?” he asked. Justin’s trials had been cut short after Arthur Miller had been accused. After all of their prep work, he’d been set home after two days of testimony, without ever naming a single name.

“Pretty good, you know. I’m the guy who beat the system. Flipped off the man and kept my finger, you know. I’ll be dining on the story for the rest of my life.”

“Glad I could be of service to you, then.” JC tucked one of Justin’s curls behind his ear.

“Congressman Chasez, saving the world one wrongfully accused at a time. Tell me, Mr. Congressman, do you think your busy schedule might allow you to stay in California for a while?”

JC smiled and leaned down for a kiss. Justin was sweet and light and delicious. “I can’t promise forever, or that it’s gonna be easy.”

“Who wants easy?” Justin asked. “I mean, you’re the one who’s a sworn upholder of worldwide democracy kissing an accused Communist.”

“There is that,” JC said. “So, do you think Democracy and Communism can ever work together successfully?”

“I think,” Justin said, as he kissed JC again, “that it’s definitely a possibility."

END


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